


The MaDMAn from U.N.C.L.E. Affair

by MariaPriest



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest
Summary: Illya tries to cope with a drugged-up Napoleon.





	The MaDMAn from U.N.C.L.E. Affair

The THRUSH man glowered at the U.N.C.L.E. agent who persisted in pawing him, telling him that even he, a THRUSHie, was loved. By him, no less. With much fumbling, pushing, and growling, he finally was able to unlock the door and shove Napoleon into a 5x5 shower stall that had been converted into a cell.

The jailer glared with disgust at Solo, who twisted 180 degrees to face his partner and promptly stumbled.

Illya caught him before he could plant his face, currently plastered with a beatific smile, on the unforgiving tile. He groaned from the pain Napoleon's hug caused him and the weight that increased as Napoleon's legs turned to melting jelly.

"He's all yours, Kuryakin. And if I didn't hate you, I'd wish you good luck, but you deserve him." The sound of the slamming door reverberated uncomfortably for both agents.

"Ouch," muttered Napoleon as Illya gently lowered them both to the floor. "You're conscious!"

"You are entirely too observant."

"You just saved my life, _mon ami_. Falls in the bathroom are the most common cause of death in the home." He patted Illya's back. His smile turned into a frown when he saw Illya's grimace and heard a soft hiss. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Illya took a calming breath and said, "It is okay, Napoleon. I will live. Next time I will fall down after being struck on the back by a pipe. That should save my head the same fate." He closed his eyes against the sudden dance the cell started to do. "And I merely saved you from a broken nose and loosened teeth."

Slowly, the pair worked their way into sitting cross-legged, facing each other, knees touching.

"Looking a little peaked, _tovarishch_."

"I am fine." Illya nearly swooned.

Napoleon reached out and caught him by the arm. He hoped his expression fully conveyed the worry and concern he was feeling. "I think you've got a concussion, you poor thing."

Illya gave his partner a puzzled look. "I'm sure it is minor." It wasn't.

"How long have you been awake?"

"A few minutes. Long enough to stand but not to search for possible vulnerabilities in our accommodations." He blinked slowly several times.

"Well, I know what can make you feel better. Knock, knock."

"What?"

"Haven't you ever heard a knock-knock joke?"

"No, and I'm sure my life is better for it."

"Aw, come on. Just say, 'Who's there?'"

Illya rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and resolutely kept his mouth shut.

"Okay, okay, I'll say it for you, pal o' mine. Who's there?" He paused for effect. "Orange!"

Nothing about Illya changed except for turning a little greenish.

"Now you're supposed to ask, 'Orange who?'"

Illya sighed. "Will it make you happy and then will you stop with the jokes?"

"Yes, yes! Oh, you're the best friend I ever had." Napoleon sat forward enough to plant a kiss on his friend's forehead.

Illya sat there, too stunned to react.

"I love you, Illya. And I love Mr. Waverly, too, and when we get to New York, I'll kiss him. And April and Mark and all the rest of Section II and the receptionists and -"

"That might not be the best idea you've had, my friend," Illya almost sputtered out in his haste to calm Napoleon's plan to demonstrate such a show of affection for their colleagues. "What did they give you, Napoleon?"

"No-no-no!" he said, wagging a finger at Illya. "Do what you said you'd do, and I'll give you another kiss."

Illya would've rolled his eyes again if the last time hadn't made him dizzy. "One kiss was sufficient, I assure you. All right, orange who?"

"Orange you glad to see me?" Napoleon burst into peals of laughter while he held his stomach. He almost fell over backwards but recovered himself. "Good one, huh, Illya?"

Illya closed his eyes against a growing headache. They didn't have time and he didn't have the stomach for this. "Yes, Napoleon, it was the best. Now what did they give you?" he demanded.

Napoleon eyes widened at the junior agent's tone. He decided to let it slide this time. "Oh, something called MDMA and some of the stock truth serum. They said they wanted to try the combination to see if this MadMan - get it? - drug could still make an old serum work."

Now it was time for Illya to look worried, not only for Napoleon but for the possibility that their resistance to old THRUSH serums might be overcome. "That drug is _not_ a good one, my friend. You can become very dehydrated."

"Well, I _am_ a little thirsty. And I did tell Doc Carruthers that he wasn't evil, but what he did was. I don't want him to feel bad about himself."

"That is nice of you, Napoleon. We need to get out of here. We've both been stripped of anything useful. Any ideas?"

From his trouser pocket, he withdrew a name tag that read _Alfred_. "He didn't like it when I blew him a kiss, so I thought I'd take a souvenir to remind me to smack him if we ever meet again." Napoleon grinned like the sly pickpocket he was.

Illya's face brightened with an impish smile. "You'll need to do the honors. I'm a bit ... shaky." He fought back a sudden nausea attack and curled up on his side. It helped marginally.

Napoleon inserted the pin in the lock. "Question for you. Pete and Repeat were sitting on a fence. Pete fell off. Who was left?"

Illya was now fighting to stay conscious. "What?"

Napoleon patiently repeated the riddle. 

Not knowing it was a riddle, Illya took it literally. "Why would someone name their child Repete? Were they twins? Is Repete a girl's or boy's name?"

Napoleon tsk-tsked. "I'll ask the doc for a dose of MDMA for you. You sure could use it."

"If you don't shut up and work the lock, I'll beg him for one myself."

the end  
©2018  


**Author's Note:**

> Response to a Section VII challenge with the prompts orange and plant


End file.
